Swept
by Crangery
Summary: Faelyn's plan for a peaceful fresh start in Skyrim comes to a grinding halt when a chance encounter with a grinning redhead leads her to a new, unexpected path full of adventure and a newly discovered, beautiful, dysfunctional group whom she calls family. Takes place after main questline - Brynjolf is guild leader. {Rated M for upcoming mature subject matter} {WIP}
1. Chapter 1 - A Chance Encounter

Crouching low within the ferns of Falkreath Hold's forest, Faelyn inhaled a slow, shaky breath and held it. Eyeing her target, she drew back a nocked arrow and aimed. Following the small deer within her line of sight, she patiently waited until it began grazing lazily. Making sure her aim was true, Faelyn exhaled and released the arrow. For a millisecond, a slight "whizz" could be heard as the arrow flew through the air and found its mark in the neck of the deer. Perfect. Faelyn darted forwards before the deer could stagger away and ended its pain with a swift dagger to the throat. Retrieving her arrow, she wiped it off, placed it back into her quiver and started the lengthy process of gutting and skinning her future meal.

After the meat had been harvested from her kill and the remains buried, Faelyn wrapped it in cloth, slung it over her shoulder and made her way back to the makeshift den she had created for herself the previous night – a small opening in a rock formation, no more than a few minutes' walk away from where she'd spotted the deer. Slipping inside, she dropped off her bow and arrows and set to making a small fire at the entrance of the den. After the fire had been lit and the venison roasted, Faelyn was almost salivating at the thought of sinking her teeth into dinner. First, however, she needed to drink. Kicking leaves and twigs over her fire to put it out, she carried the cooked venison inside and proceeded to walk to a small pool of water which was within vision of the rocks. She quickly splashed some of the cool liquid onto her face, before scooping some up and moving her mouth to her hands, ready to quench her thirst.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, lass."

Faelyn flinched and spun around. The low, smooth voice came from directly behind her. Instinctively unsheathing her dagger, the Bosmer took a step back and snarled at the newcomer. Staring back at her was a tall Nord with shaggy, fiery hair and emerald eyes. His shoulders were broad, with a slim waist and a confident stance about him. The stranger donned leather armour as black as night, with various pouches and pockets, nicks and scars. This man had clearly experienced his fair share of rough-housing. Strapped to his waist was a dagger which appeared to have been crafted from the golden-tinted metal which she had heard could only be forged from the metal found within ancient Dwarven ruins – its tip sharp enough to pierce skin as though it were nothing. Despite Faelyn drawing her weapon, he did not. The most startling aspect of this man, however, was his grin.

"And why is that?" Faelyn squeezed the polished steel dagger in her hand, ready to make a move if needed. She fought to keep her voice even.

"Even children know not to drink from water which isn't flowing. Unfiltered water could give you all kinds of stomach upset, lass. And with your lack of coin, I doubt you could afford a healer" The man's grin widened and he raised an eyebrow, although he backed up a few paces to show Faelyn that he was not looking for a confrontation.

Gods damn it. The man was right. Faelyn sheathed her dagger and asked the man warily, "Who are you? And more importantly, what makes you think I'm a nobody and not a noble?" Faelyn almost spat the latter sentence in an attempt to match the man's unnerved and self-assured demeanour.

He chuckled and leaned against a tree, crossing one leg over the other and eyeing Faelyn. "I've never met a noble who enjoys playing hide and seek inside rock caverns. But I never said you're a nobody, lass. I wouldn't want to cross you and meet the same fate as that deer back there." He chuckled again. "Name's Brynjolf, Thief of Riften." He leaned towards her in a feigned bow and flashed her a wide smile. "Who are you?"

"Faelyn. My name's Faelyn." Was all she could reply.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Faelyn." Brynjolf replied. After a long pause and blank stare from the young woman, he continued. "Alright, lass. You've got questions."

* * *

After a lengthy discussion sat at the bar inside Dead Man's Drink, Faelyn discovered that Brynjolf had been running a "job" inside Falkreath when he had seen her leaving the inn and, since she seemed out of place, followed her.

"You mean, you were going to rob me?" Faelyn laughed, as she took a swig from her mead.

"Aye, I was! But like I said, lass, I thought better of it after watching the way you hunt." Brynjolf replied. "Plus, I soon figured you didn't have anything worth taking anyway."

Faelyn rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly, staring into her tankard. Her ears perked when Brynjolf spoke up again after a short silence.

"Ever been to Riften, Faelyn?" The Bosmer shook her head.

"I haven't. I've yet to stray beyond Falkreath Hold. I travelled from Valenwood and through Cyrodiil and eventually ended up at Falkreath. I learned as much about Skyrim as I could, as soon as I found out that my family and I would be moving North." The Nord beside her scratched his head, his brow furrowing.

"You mention family, but I haven't seen any, lass. Where are they now?"

"They went home." Faelyn said matter-of-factly. "After about a month of staying in a makeshift shack we built in the woods, I was the only one who fell in love with the land. They left, and I needed to make a life for myself, so I stayed. And now, here I am." She grinned, sipping her mead again. "Now, tell me your story, Brynjolf. Who are you really?"

It seemed as though Brynjolf had been waiting for Faelyn to ask that question, and he snapped back with an almost-rehearsed reply. "I run an organization in Riften, and we could use somebody like you." When she frowned, he leaned closer to her and, with a hushed voice, continued.

"Ever heard of the Thieves Guild, lass?"


	2. Chapter 2 - Business

Faelyn's mind raced with a delicious combination of excitement and fear as she listened to Brynjolf's tales of the Thieves Guild's history whilst trudging beside him along the road towards Riften. Ranging from anecdotes about various members, to the heists and burglaries which had remained rooted in the Nord's mind – his voice was full of pride and affection for his family After Brynjolf had kindly rented them each a room at Dead Man's Drink so they could sleep soundly for the night, Faelyn had told him that she needed time to consider his offer of becoming his apprentice and, eventually, securing a place within the Guild. She was definitely interested, but wanted some inside information before weighing up her options. They both figured that the walk to Riften would provide enough time for Brynjolf to give her some details. As expected, he did not want to divulge important information about his organization to somebody who he'd known for such little time, although he was happy to provide her with a taste of what she may expect within the guild, through the aforementioned stories.

After Brynjolf had finished telling Faelyn about Vex – a beautiful woman with hair as white as snow and an attitude equally as icy – a comfortable silence had fallen between the two newfound friends. Faelyn finally spoke up. "It seems as though your Guild is doing well for itself, Bryn. Why are you looking to recruit more members?"

Although his gaze remained forward, Faelyn caught a glimpse of a faint smile. "I'm not looking to recruit, lass. Like I said last night, somebody with your talents would be well suited nestled in with us." He paused before continuing. "I made the journey to Falkreath simply to rid a noble of some gold which he'd unfairly won in a rigged bet against one of our clients. I didn't go out looking to recruit, but a true larcenist wouldn't ignore a shiny coin now, would he?"

Faelyn snorted, although the compliment made her smile. "You think I have any experience breaking into houses or picking pockets? Because I don't. I'm good with a bow. I know how to hunt. I'm struggling to understand how you've found a correlation between being a good shot and being a good thief."

Brynjolf gave a hearty laugh and patted her firmly on the shoulder. Faelyn frowned at him, a confused look on her face. "You're not a thief. I'll give you that. But by Talos, you have potential, girl." Brynjolf's voice took a more serious tone. "I only followed you for a short while, but during that time, I watched the way you stalked that deer, Faelyn. I didn't hear a single twig snap under your feet, and clearly it didn't either, otherwise we both would've gone hungry last night. A hunter and a thief use the same skills and fundamentally have the same goal. Don't get caught. If you were to join, I'd fully train you myself, of course, but it seems as though you've already nailed one of the key elements to staying hidden." Though Brynjolf was choosing his words carefully, there was honesty in his voice.

"I suppose you're right. I'd be lying if I said I had a grand plan to follow. Sooner or later I would've had to look for work, else I'd run out of s-" Faelyn froze suddenly, stopping dead in her tracks and holding an arm out in front of Brynjolf to stop him also. The man instinctively unsheathed his dagger whilst Faelyn drew her bow and nocked an arrow. " _Wolves…_ " Faelyn's voice was barely a whisper as she breathed the word into her companion's ear. He nodded in response, bracing himself.

The next few moments passed in a blur as two wolves emerged from behind the trees surrounding the road and flanked herself and Brynjolf. Faelyn's heart dropped – not at the thought of having to fight them, but having to kill them. They were beautiful creatures, with grey-black fur and gleaming eyes. Their snarl was low and rumbling, and sent a chill down her spine. However, Faelyn's thoughts were cut short as the wolf on her left suddenly darted towards her. Spinning into position, Faelyn released her drawn arrow and it pierced the wolf's flank, eliciting a shriek. She turned and glanced towards Brynjolf's direction. He was making quick work of the wolf that had lunged at him, kicking it to the floor and slashing it with his dagger. Through her momentary daze, the wolf which she had shot suddenly jumped at its feet and bowled into her, knocking her to the floor. "Fuck!" she shouted, as she unsheathed her steel dagger with one hand and stabbed it repeatedly in the back, whilst using her other hand to push away a pair of razor sharp, snapping jaws. Suddenly, the weight of the beast was lifted off of her. Faelyn glanced up to see Brynjolf standing above her, a look of panic in his olive eyes. He extended a hand which Faelyn took gratefully, and pulled her to her feet, using his other hand to steady her. They were both panting heavily.

"Are you alright, lass? What happened?" Brynjolf was fighting to steady his voice.

"I'm fine, thank you." Faelyn awkwardly brushed herself off and straightened her armour. "I don't know what happened. It caught me off guard, that's for sure. You don't look alright, though." Her friend appeared confused. "Your cheek, Bryn." Faelyn took his hand and placed it against his right cheek, where three bloodied claw marks trailed from his right cheek to the corner of his top lip. His long stubble now had a reddish tint, where the crimson liquid had begun to lightly weep from his wound.

"Bah, blasted creatures." Brynjolf spat, as he looked at his bloody fingertips. "I didn't even feel it. Must've been the adrenaline. We're lucky we got away with a few new scars for the armour – and the face!" Brynjolf chuckled.

"We need to move away from the bodies before something even bigger smells their next meal, and then get you cleaned up." Faelyn was able to think rationally again. She knew it would only be a matter of time before a troll or bear would follow the scent of the two corpses behind them.

* * *

After travelling for a few more minutes, the two stopped by a small stream that ran parallel to the road. After digging around in her satchel for a short while, Faelyn pulled out a small parcel, wrapped tightly in leaves, and placed it on the ground next to them. She briefly washed her hands in the running water and tore off a small chunk of fur from her armour, soaking it in the cool currents. "Hold still," she murmured to her friend as she placed the drenched fur against her friend's face, gently removing the dried blood which had crusted around the wound and in his facial hair. Brynjolf did as he was told and did not move nor utter a word. Once the wound was visible again, Faelyn unwrapped the small parcel of leaves, revealing a creamy, off-yellow paste.

"Woah, hold up a moment lass. What in gods' name is that?" Brynjolf spoke with disgust in his voice.

Faelyn rolled her eyes. "It's a healing salve. It'll clean up the wound and stop infection from setting in."

"Alright, just be careful with it."

Faelyn rolled her eyes again, before scooping up a generous amount of the salve onto two fingers and gently applying it to the wound on Brynjolf's face. He winced and drew in a sharp breath as the ointment started working at disinfecting his gashes. Having to fix up Brynjolf's wound gave Faelyn a chance to study the face of her friend. He had a prominent jaw and a very sparse dusting of pale freckles across the bridge of his nose and onto his cheeks. She wouldn't have even known they were there, had she not been up close. Although his skin was smooth, she could see a couple of very light and faded scars around Brynjolf's lower lip and chin. It seemed as though he'd been fistfights before. Faelyn also noticed various dark red strands in amongst his rusty, copper hair. She frowned. If only her plain dark brown hair was interesting to view.

"I need to put some of this salve onto your lip as well, Brynjolf. It may sting a bit more but I thought it'd be best to warn you first. Try not to flinch or open your mouth; it tastes as nasty as it feels." Her friend nodded in response and she rubbed a small layer of the paste over his already swelling top lip. Brynjolf squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. Faelyn sympathized with him, for her own experiences with the salve had been equally as excruciating. "There. All done." She wiped the excess onto the grass and picked up her supplies, ready to continue their journey.

"Thank you, my friend. I'm sure the stinging will subside, yes?" Almost as soon as he finished speaking, his expression change to that of shock and then utter disgust as he doubled over, coughing and gagging. He frantically wiped his tongue with his hands and spat onto the floor.

Faelyn threw her head back and burst into a fit of laughter, for her friend had done the very thing she'd told him not to do. "What did I say about not getting it in your mouth?" She clapped him on the shoulder as he washed his mouth out with water from the stream.

"Curse you, Faelyn. Curse you." Brynjolf sounded gruff, but there was a hint of laughter in his voice.

"Come on, let's go."


End file.
